Twilight Dawn
by Fiona Bunny
Summary: The 6th age is an age of war, an age of brutal bloodshed between Gargoyles, vampires, and humans. The fellowship must return to fight off a stronger Saruman now undead and deadlier. Can it be done? PG-13 for a adult reading level and mature themes
1. Prologue

Twilight Dawn 

Summary: The 6th age is an age of war, an age of brutal bloodshed between Gargoyles, vampires, and humans. The fellowship must return to fight off a stronger Saruman now undead and deadlier. Can it be done? PG-13 for a adult reading level and mature themes

Characters: The entire fellowship with the exception of two, Elrond, Elrohir, my own characters, villains (can't tell you who)

Style: Tolkien fiction, Vampire the Masquerade, and Gargolyes (Disney version), mysticism, unconventional themes, actual (earth) history, folklore, and mythology.  Everything will be explained.

Genre: action/adventure, fantasy, romance, horror, tragedy, angst, sci fi (at the end)

Setting:  Middle Earth long after "The Return of the King"   

A/N: Please review it!

Prologue  

          Something told him that it was dawn, but he saw nothing but gray mist.  It cloaked him and fed him sweet, morning dew.

          "_Come_."  

          Three voices called him.  He remembered that he had been sleeping and it was now time.

          "_Elrond, Elrond of Rivendell, awake_."

          Elrond rose with his head bowed as if still asleep, and his white robes glowed in the mist.  There was no sign of the treacherous journey that he made through Gray Havens[1].  When Elrond lifted his head, three figures emerged from the mists.  Three identical maidens[2] in white robes took shape.  Her hair was auburn, hers was silver, and hers was dark, but all three sisters moved as one.

_"Your people are few and fading_," they whispered in unison, "_lead them here but know this:"_

          The dark haired sister drifted forward, "_One living,"_

          "_One dead_," spoke the silver one,

          "_And One filled with hate_," said the auburn one,

          "_Will herald the return of the elven race_," they said in chorus.

          Elrond shuddered as the ethereals vanished, and before him, the dying mist revealed a path.  Before Elrond moved, a hand stayed him.

          "My lord," a fair-haired elf addressed him.  "It is I, Legolas."

          "Legolas," Elrond murmured, "Legolas of Mirkwood?"

          "Yes, dangers lie before us and I wish to accompany you back to Rivendell.  I offer you any service that you may require."

          And so the two elves set out for Rivendell.  They would find that a millennium had passed since the 4th age, the passing of Lord Elrond.  For a while, it had been a peaceful millennium on middle earth without the evils of a witch king or ring of power.  Only then did men live in peace with races and creatures of all kinds.  Gargoyles protected city walls, elves and dwarves mingled with men, and cainites[3] and men lived as one.  Monks and scholars called this glorious but short-lived time, The Age of Brightness.  Sadly, the Age of Brightness ended with the Schism when men quarreled with and filched from the other races.

When the Great Flood[4] came, a mysterious thing came to be.  Scores of men died and were scattered without a memory of their great past.  Sadly after the coming of the flood, the men of Gondor and Rohan had forgotten the valor of their kings.  They had forsaken the honor that so set them apart from all of men.  They were cold, hungry, and desperate.  Plagued with suspicion and fear, they soon blamed all magical folk for their woes.  These men became like the Men of Darkness and became ruthless barbarians who roamed the land pillaging and conquering.  It was no wonder that dwarves and gargoyle alike became legend, and Cainites became myth.  Elves had cast a spell over their cities so that neither flood nor men could find it. 

The coming of the 5th age also marked the return of Lord Elrond.  It was a secretive one only remembered by the Druids[5].  The Druids once sang a bittersweet song of Mid Year's Day.  Such was day of the destruction of Mirkwood and Lórien because of a war fought between two factions of men[6].  Both claimed the lands and its riches, and could not bear to have it otherwise.  Such was also the night of Lord Elrond's return.  Lord Elrond, it is said, was in mourning when received at Rivendell by the survivors these last elven cities.  Many elves, though sick, dying, or wounded, gathered their strength to rejoice at his return.  Out of his grief, Elrond managed to find love in one tiny elven waif, the last elf child of middle earth.  He raised her, called her Arraleea, and took her as his own daughter.  When urged by his people to sail west to Gray Haven or beyond, Elrond only shook his head sadly.  Some say that Lord Elrond stayed at the whim of his daughter.  Others suspected that he carried the heavy burden of some terrible knowledge.

And now, the story begins.

Footnotes

1. Gray Havens is to newcomers a difficult journey to be made, to others a place of healing, and to all a sanctuary.  Shrouded with mystery, Gray Havens bears a striking resemblance to Avalon.

2. Three sisters or the Fates, found in Greek mythology and sometimes Arthurian Legend, are god-like beings who control destiny.

3. Caine was the first son of Adam and Eve.  Because he slew his brother Abel, Caine was forever condemned as a murderer. In this story, Caine was also the first vampire.  Against the wishes of God, Caine sired thirteen cainites and was banished to the Land of Nod.  (Above is based on Vampire the Masquerade by White Wolf)  Very little is known about the actual existence of Caine or of his childer (children).  Childer is a term used only by the Kindred (vampires) and Cainites is now an archaic term.  Some records found from the Age of Brightness allude to thirteen respectable cainites who lived peaceably among men.

4. The Great Flood was mentioned in several ancient texts, including the Bible.  The flood was usually considered an act of God to punish men for their wickedness. (God could be the Valar of old or any deity you choose since it doesn't matter in my story)

5. Druids worshipped nature, Stonehenge, and were the last men who knew of the Elves.  They learned some minor Elven arts and lore with the permission of Elrohir and later Elrond, his father.

6. The Northmen had then become a widely mixed collection of the descendants of Woses, Woodmen, Drúedain, the Dale Men, and the remnants of the Dunlendings and pre-Númenóreans.  Most of these lines had had assimilated into one of the three major clans: Woodmen, Dale Men, and the Éothéod.  When the Éothéod and Woodmen formed a military alliance, the Dale Men took a pre-emptive strike against them and invited the Gondorian armies into their lands as a protective measure.  However, Gondor soon revealed their ulterior motives of ruthless expansion.  The warring camps of the Northmen huddled together in the face of a common enemy and warred against Gondor in the Gondor-North War.  With new technology and disease rampant, they fought a war throughout Mirkwood and Lorien that left the land devastated. 


	2. Arraleea, Child of Rivendell

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,   
The bridal of the earth and sky;  
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,  
For thou must die.

~George Herbert

Chapter 1: Arraleea

          The stony chamber was dim and dusty, but from the skylight, one shaft of light pierced the center of the room.  The light fell before Elrond, who sat upon his marble throne, with his hand upon his chin.  It had been one hundred years since he returned from Gray Havens.  It was the 6th age in Rivendell, the last elven stronghold, and it was dying with Middle Earth.  None of the others noticed how Rivendell grew dimmer and saw how its walls eroded day by day.  Strange evils, probably the side effects of man's technology, lurked beyond its walls and became bolder year by year.  Sadly, the elves were becoming more human, with most having lost their elf-sense.

          "Elrond!" A bright female in blue garlands and muddy dress ran into the round room.

          From the columns to the left of Elrond, a lean elf in green stepped forward to stop her, "That would be _Lord_ Elrond, Master of the Elves.  Or for you, you may address him as 'Father.'"

          She smirked at Legolas and pushed him aside, "Father, look what I found!"

          Elrond looked on hopelessly at his daughter.  Meanwhile, she opened her fist to reveal a brass ring upon her palm.  It gleamed strangely.  Legolas and Elrond were shocked.  

"It can't be another ring of power." Legolas looked at Elrond for confirmation. 

"Arraleea," Elrond said sternly as he leaned forward to look at the ring, "Where did you find this?"

"I…" Araleea faltered.  She darted glances behind her.

"These are not elven symbols on the ring, sire," Legolas spoke urgently.

"Arraleea!"  Elrond stood up in anger.

"I—I found it!" She blurted.

"You went outside again," Elrond began his tirade, "I cannot protect you outside Rivendell; it is not safe.  Not anymore."

"No, I—it wasn't my fault.  It was an accident."  Arraleea stole a glance at Legolas.

Legolas looked back grimly, "She lies, My Lord."

"Legolas!" Arraleea said in exasperation, "You always take his side!  Father, won't _you_ believe me?"

Elrond ignored her plea, "How many times have I told you?"

"Five thousand and twenty nine times."  Arraleea muttered with her eyes on the ground.

"Exactly.  My child, times have changed.  When Elrohir ruled in my absence..." Elrond sighed as he gazed at his daughter, "Alright, that will be all."

Arraleea could not believe her luck.  She turned about and quickly fled the room.  Elrond watched his daughter's silver gown vanish through the door.  He foresaw danger all about her and he could only watch helplessly.

"You long for the sea," Legolas spoke softly.

"Yes," Elrond said heavily.

"Perhaps it is time we left for Gray Havens.  It is the year of the crescent moon and the tides are…"

"Legolas," Elrond found himself at a loss of words, "You do not understand.  The time will come, not with tide nor moon."

Elrond looked about the chamber, noting the white slabs of granite that encircled the room.  From the right, a messenger dressed in a tan tunic bounded into the room.  He kneeled before Elrond, "The druids have arrived, Master Elrond.  Do you wish to welcome them personally?"

"Yes, let them come.  Tell the elves to prepare themselves."

"What of the Half Elves and the Dark Elves that have gone with Elrohir?"

"No matter.  The Silvan Elves will do."

The messenger left from where he came and a group of nine cloaked men entered the room.  The leader was an old man leaning against a gnarled staff.

"My friends, welcome to Rivendell," Elrond stood with a smile and addressed the elder, "Brother Lucas, I expect that the journey went well."

The hooded monk lifted his hood, "Blessings to you, Lord Elrond.  May sweet Rivendell never wilt."

The elder paused and continued.

"The pilgrimage was most difficult.  Master Elrond, your southern border is not secure.  I fear the tales of demons and wraiths are true."

"All is well here.  Elrohir and my finest warriors will ensure your safe passage back south."

"Aye, that was why we crossed the lowlands from the east.  Demons seem to have Rivendell surrounded."

Elrond's brow furrowed.  He turned to Legolas, "Go find Arraleea and make sure she is safe.  Don't let her leave Rivendell."

Legolas nodded.

"Protect her as you would me.  That is your only duty now."  Elrond became agitated, "Upon your honor, swear that you will, Legolas."

Legolas looked frightened and promptly, "I swear—"

"Now, go!" Elrond's voice was tense.

Legolas bounded out the room, and the Druidic Brethren watched in confusion.

Elrond turned to his guests. "I apologize.  The Silvan Elves are in the grove and will teach you all that you can learn."

"Perhaps we came at a bad time," the elder suggested, "Perhaps next year?"

"No, you may not find us next year." Elrond spoke ominously.  

          The grove was a sunny and green valley, with flowering trees that cried white blossoms.  Not a soul could be seen in this beautiful valley, except one elven maiden.  Our bold Arraleea never bothered to blend with the flora as the others did.  She made herself visible to all and she ran cheerily along a winding path leading to the south of Rivendell.

          "My lady," a Silvan elf addressed her politely as she passed.

          Arraleea stopped and smiled at him, "Llywellyn, will you make my garlands white?"

          "Of course," Llywellyn closed his eyes and chanted something elvish.

          "Thank you," she gushed and went to look at herself in marble water stand.  The white garlands made her dark hair appear even darker, and overhead the crimson sun cast shadows upon her image.  Then she remembered her father.  Father dearest would be sending Legolas to spy on her soon.  She gave Llywellyn a wink of secrecy, skipped away, and vanished into the woods.  

          Legolas entered from a hilltop overlooking the grove and scouted the area.  He sensed Arraleea's presence rising from the south.  Legolas spotted Llywellyn among the elms and rang toward him.

          "Llywellyn, which way did she go?"

          The Silvan appeared undecided.

          "You mustn't hide her.  You musn't play along with her games," Legolas chided his cousin, "I'm to find her under the strict orders of Lord Elrond."

          Llywellyn sighed and pointed to the woods, where Legolas soon disappeared.

          Meanwhile, Arraleea headed for a stony clearing on the outskirts of Rivendell.  She emerged from the forest and stepped into heavy underbrush.  A few feet away, an old cobble path that was lined with pillars led to the outside world, and Arraleea followed it to the battered gates.  She had come just in time to hear the creaking of the gates opening and the sound of horses and clanking armor.  Arraleea slipped behind the pillars and slinked towards the gate.  When she was at the last pillar before the massive gates, she heard the familiar voice of the wagon driver.  

          "C'mon Sally," the driver whispered to the horse in elvish, "I know you're tired.  We're almost home."

          "Will you hurry?" an irate elf yelled from beyond the gates.

The massive war wagon containing armaments and supplies struggled to pull through the gates.  Arraleea watched and waited until the horses and driver had passed her pillar, before she moved on through the gate.

          "Where do you think you're going, young lady?" A deep voice jolted her.

          With her face muddied and dress torn, Arraleea glanced nervously up at her interrogator, a warrior elf donning splendid silver armor.  He leaped off his horse and took off his helm.  Raven black locks of hair tumbled forth, revealing Elrohir's face.

          "Brother," Arraleea was caught again, "I came to meet you.  How did the campaign go?  Did you exterminate the demons?"

          Elrohir smiled, "No need to call me brother, Arraleea.  We are not related by blood."

          "But I love you as a brother," She noticed that the war wagon had slipped by and so had her chances.  She couldn't believe she had been caught twice in a single day.  It was her worst performance in ages.

          "Not more?" Elrohir teased and his gray eyes twinkled merrily.

          "Tell me about the monsters.  Tell me about your adventures." Arraleea changed the subject, "I've grown up listening about the adventures of the Fellowship and the historic battles, but this—this is real."

          Elrohir chuckled, "Well, these are very peculiar monsters unlike any you have heard of.  They are not the orcs, wildmen, or goblins of the past."

          "Are they human?" Arraleea asked and added quickly, "I mean, are they of human sorcery."

          The prince stared at her for a moment, "No, no they are not.  Human sorcery is impotent, if it exists at all."    

          "Arraleea," someone called her.  Elrohir looked up to see Legolas running towards them. 

Elrohir returned to his horse and Legolas excused himself, "Prince Elrohir, I hope that all is well with you.  And Arraleea, you have your father immensely worried.  You are not harmed?"

          "Harmed?" She pulled a branch from her hair, "Never better."

          Legolas looked at her skeptically and turned back to Elrohir, "The druids have arrived and they speak of demons surrounding our city.  Know you this?"

          "Yes, I intend to deal with them at daybreak.  However, the southern route is secured for the monks to pass."

          "Lord Elrond appeared shocked to hear this news.  I suppose you have not informed him of your campaigns."

          "My Father," Elrohir spoke, "He grows weary and wishes to sail over-sea.  Sometimes I feel as if I welcomed the demons that come to devour our city.  While he does not resist them, I will."

          Legolas did not speak and he glanced at Arraleea, who trudged sullenly beside him.  When they had reached a fork in the road, Legolas nudged her and told Elrohir, "This is where we part.  I'm to see Lady Arraleea back to her quarters."

          Elrohir assented and he spurred his horse to join with his men.  As for the other two, they walked in silence until Legolas spoke.

          "No more tomfoolery and sneaking off into the night," Legolas told her, "I have orders from Lord Elrond to see that you don't."

          "Even elves need sleep," she reminded him.

          "And I suppose you are not an elf?" Legolas retorted.

          "I hate it when you are my nanny," Arraleea whined.

          "I wish you had one."

          "No," Arraleea said thoughtfully and laughed, "A real nanny would never catch me."

          Legolas smiled briefly and became serious again.  It was dusk, and they had reached a building supported by columns that was carved into the side of a mountain.  Delicate vines acted as curtains and flowers decorated those 'curtains.'  Legolas leaned against one of the columns and waited for her to enter.

          "I shall not sleep tonight." Legolas told her.

          Arraleea entered her already lit chamber and threw herself on a pile of soft pillows and blankets.  From her pocket, she retrieved the ring she had shown her father.  She slipped it over he forefinger and noted how it was so plain and yet so beautiful.  A breeze blew through her hair, and she asked it to blow out the lamps. She shivered and fell asleep.

          Meanwhile, not far from Arraleea's chamber, was the encampment of Elrohir and his elves.  Elrohir paced about restlessly.  How could the demons have surrounded the city, after all the demons he had slain in their sleep?  He wanted to form a band of elven elite to fight them, but these demons were elusive at night.  Suddenly, the shrill impassioned cry of demons pierced the air.  The fight had come to them.  Elrohir's warriors heard the cry as well, and the camp bustled with elves seeking their armor and brandishing their blades.  

          Legolas too heard the scream, but strangely, he did not sense their approach.  He was impatient to seek out this mysterious demon, but first he stole into Arraleea's chamber and found that she was safe and asleep.  Immediately, Legolas headed for Elrohir's camp to seek orders.

          Ahead of Legolas, a messenger in tan limped as he rushed toward Elrohir's headquarters. When the boy had found the prince, "My Lord, several of the guards on the southern border have been killed."

          "How many survivors?" Elrohir demanded and noticed Legolas enter the room.

          "Three," the young elf cried, "It was all we could do to keep the Enemy from rushing through the gates.  Captain Ioni'ab of the Dark Elves fought bravely to the end so that we could escape."

          Elrohir bowed his head in grief, "My friend, friend of Rivendell, may you rest in peace."

          "My Prince, let me fight on the southern front," Legolas spoke fiercely and added quietly, "Though I fear that our weapons will be useless against these enemies."

          "That I fear as well," Elrohir said, "But their main force is attacking the eastern gate, and I can only spare so many to fight there tonight.  No, you will not fight tonight.  Vengeance must wait.  I want you to scout the other gates and report to me if you find any demon signs."

            As Legolas left, Elrohir could tell from his elves' rallying cries that all was not well.  There was only four more hours until dawn and the demons would flee back to their holes, but he could not sit and wait.  The rallying cries were coming less often and seemed to have stopped coming.  He tucked a dagger under his belt, grabbed his sword, and headed for the battle.


	3. Descent

Chapter 2: Descent

When elves sleep, they do not dream.  They remember.  In their sleep, they often reminisced upon their long, long past.  After all, their lives were longer than that of any mortal; yet, that life passed quickly and sweetly.  Elven life was the stuff of dreams.  And as Arraleea slept, she too remembered.  It was a time long ago; it was one century after Lord Elrond's return when Arraleea was only a child…

"Legolas, I want to go to Mirkwood too!"  Arraleea said brashly as she skipped alongside him, as they were passing through a bright little valley on the outskirts of Rivendell.  

Legolas looked at her gravely, "This is not a game, child.  I go to pay my respects to my ancestors."

"Alright," she stopped and watched Legolas walk ahead.  She knew Legolas went every Mid-year's day, but she could not understand why Legolas needed to visit the dead so often.

"Run back to Rivendell and don't talk to any humans," Legolas turned about briefly, "If you're good, when I return I'll tell you what happened to Frodo and Sam."

"And if you're good," Arraleea mocked him with a gleam of devilry in her eye, "I'll tell you what happened to your bow and arrows!"

Legolas cast her a look of astonishment and anger, as she sprinted away laughing.  Arraleea whirled past and hid behind an enormous oak tree.  From her hideout, she espied Legolas' brown and green slowly fade into the land.  Ahead of him, hills rose to the west and a heavily wooded forest flanked the east.

"Don't talk to the humans," She muttered to herself as she left the tree, "Don't do this and especially don't do that.  Poor Legolas will never learn."

Arraleea went in the direction of Legolas and was ready to follow him to Mirkwood when she spotted smoke rising in the east.  Exotic smells of spice and hickory smoke filled her lungs, and she cried eagerly, "Humans!"

She had always a strange fascination for these notorious creatures.  Her father had forbidden any communication between humans and elves, with the exception of the Druids.  But she had met them all and Druids were definitely a boring lot.  They only wanted to learn about the Elves and revel in nature, and they seemed hardly human.  She had never met a real human before, and she wanted to see this _greed_ and _treachery_ that even her father feared.  So without any hesitation, Arraleea entered the forest to find the human settlement.

As our young elf maiden wandered lightly among the oaks and foliage, her keen ears heard the distant sound of angry shouts, the thundering of horse hooves, and the howling of wolves in hot pursuit.  Suddenly, she saw a young man with a large black book struggling through the thicket.  He was a fierce looking lad with tousled blond hair and a scar running down his left jaw.  Life had not been kind to him.  She watched him frantically pulled his thick, dark cloak from the thorns.  In desperation, he uttered some strange incantation, "Corpse and blight, take these thorns and take fli—"

Before he could finish, there was a violent rustling of thicket; an enormous gray wolf emerged from the green, followed by the rest of the pack.  In an instant, the hungry gray beasts knocked the boy down, clawed at him, desperate for blood.

Arraleea watched in horror as blood stained gray fur.  If she helped this boy, she would reveal herself to a human.  She could not violate her father's decree, but she could not let this boy die. A muffled scream awakened her, and Arraleea made her decision.  In an instant, the wolves suddenly left their victim and trotted to her like puppies.  Arraleea petted the leader of the pack and asked, "Who sent you, Master Wolf?"

The wolf howled in reply, "The men of Rohirrim are our masters now.  They command that we kill the boy."

Meanwhile the boy had recovered his senses and watched in amazement.  He had never seen an elf, especially one who could talk to wolves, nor had he seen any more beautiful.

"Do the men treat you kindly?"  Arraleea continued.

"They feed us, but we are not free," the howl had become an eerie wail, "There is no freedom in the land of men."

"I will free you.  Will you help me save this boy?" Arraleea held out her hand.

"Anything for you, Lady Arraleea," the wolf licked her extended palm.

"Then go.  Lead the Rohirrim away from us."

As the wolves left them, Arraleea went to the prostrate boy and asked, "Where can I take you to find help?"

The boy stared at the angel and stuttered, "You—You're an elf…girl."

Arraleea concluded that the boy was no longer rational and began cleaning his wounds.  She left to find some herbs but the boy called after her.

"No, wait!  Where are you going?  Come back!"  He struggled to sit up.

Arraleea turned back, "I'm going to find help, since you won't tell me where that could be."

"These wounds are but little scrapes," he was bleeding profusely and he wiped some blood off his face with his gray tunic.  

The elf gazed at the blonde haired boy and wondered why he would lie to her, "Why do you flee from the Rohirrim?  What have you done?"

"I have done nothing," he said, "But the Rohirrim, they have set fire to my village, slaughtered my parents, and now seek to murder every last Drúedain."

"Why would they do that?"

"They accuse us of witchcraft," the boy said bitterly, "We are necromancers, not witches!  The Rohirrim revel in ignorance and they kill us for sport.  They hate us."

"But you're just a boy," Arraleea said in disbelief, "What do they have to fear from you?"

"They have much to fear.  My undying vengeance is something they should fear." The boy grinned mirthlessly, "They fear that I will dig up their ancestors and revolt with an army of undead."

"Could you do such a thing?" the elf asked incredulously.

The boy laughed, "Perhaps with twenty more years of training.  All I can do is commune with the dead and even that is very difficult.  The dead are not always friendly.  Supposedly, the art of necromancy is to learn of the future from these ghosts, but that requires much more experience than I will ever possess."

Arraleea did not speak.  

"We necromancers spend much of our time near the dead in cemeteries, crypts, and the basement of churches.  Perhaps the Rohirrim have reason to dislike us, but they have none to murder us."

Arraleea was silently trying to understand his words.  How could humans kill each other for sport?  How could hatred between men run so deep?  And this necromancy was quite a morbid magic.  She looked at him and was surprised that his wounds had nearly healed.  This boy was the human she had been looking for.

"What about you?" The boy noticed her silence.  To him, she glowed with unnatural beauty, "Are you an elf or dream?"

"I am an elf," Arraleea affirmed and asked, "I was only passing through the woods seeking adventure.  Then, I found you."

"Adventure?  I am nothing but adventure," The boy had risen with a confident smile and said, "The Rohirrim hunt with several packs of wolves.  Some don't need wolves.  It won't be long before they find us again.  We must leave this kingdom and head for another."

He took her hand but she resisted, "I can't go with you.  My name is Arraleea.  If you ever need me, speak my name when the wind blows south, and I will hear your call.  I wish I could talk but I must go now."

The sun was setting fast, and Arraleea needed to head home before her father could alert Rivendell of her absence.  She backed away from him and receded into the forest.  

As she rushed past trees and skipped over undergrowth, she heard his voice echo, "Goodbye!  My name is Thanatos..."

Seventy years passed before she heard from him again.  She would often sneak into his old village for any news of him or his return, but she found that the Rohirrim had indeed killed all of the Drúedain.  She had nearly given him up for dead, when finally she heard him call her name.  They met one night under the canopy of a weeping willow and moonlight gently bathed the land.  Arraleea remembered Thanatos had not grown much older.  Though he was certainly more handsome, he seemed particularly unwell that night…

"Thanatos, I'm so happy to see you!  You have so much to tell me and so much to show me.  You must take me away and let me see some adventure!" Arraleea stepped towards him eagerly, but he remained shrouded in the shadows of the willow tree.  She became suddenly aware of his silence, "Are you ill?"

"I'm fine," he took a step back, "Don't, please don't come any closer."

Arraleea was deeply hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Arraleea," he struggled to explain, "I can explain, but I can't.  I have so much to tell you, but I can't tell you."

"Why do you tease me with riddles?" She looked at him beseechingly and noticed how strangely pale and gaunt his face was.  "No, can it be?  Thanatos, you must explain or I will die of a broken heart."

"Arraleea, will you wait one more night?  Then I will tell you everything," he told her, "Tonight, I only wanted to see you once more."

"Do you promise to come back?" Arraleea stared at him in anguish, "I will wait.  You know where to find me."

Thanatos reproached himself under his breath, "I should not have come at all.  I am such a fool to think that..." and finally he sighed, "Yes, I promise."

"You know I love you…" Arraleea said softly, "And I would do anything…"

"Yes," Thanatos moved toward her nervously, and with trembling hands, he gave her a small ring. 

Their hands met for a moment and Arraleea gasped, "What is this?  Thanatos, you are as cold as ice!  Tell me what is wrong!"

"Nothing," He pulled away and averted his gaze from her soulful eyes, "Nothing is wrong.  This ring…is a symbol of my love…for you."

Arraleea's eyes beamed with such infinite joy that she did not notice the infinite sadness reflected in his eyes.

"Tomorrow night," Thanatos told her.

Arraleea awoke to the sound of whispering wind.  She was to meet Thanatos tonight as he had promised her.  She wanted to find him before he found her to avoid having an intruder enter Rivendell, but her plans had failed.  Where was he now?  She sighed, laid back on her pillow, and tried to formulate another plan.

Outside, the sound of the battlefield was only a dim roar.  Nine cloaked figures appeared on the steps of Arraleea's chamber and the voices of two were slightly audible.

"Are you sure this is the spot?  I see nothing but rocks and trees."

"I sense my ring, Thanatos.  We are very close," the voice hissed impatiently.

"Must we do this?" Thanatos hesitated, "If the dark-haired warrior elf should find us, he will kill us all."

"I have already taken that into consideration, my child.  He is now preoccupied with my minions," there was a pause only broken by a distant demonic screech, "You do realize the importance of this mission."

"Yes, but Master," Thanatos protested, "The elven princess—"

"Silence!  No more delays.  We do this now." 

The leader of the group signaled for them to move forward.  They entered Arraleea's room but they saw nothing save rocks and weeds.  Suddenly there was a flash of gold from among the rocks.

"Now, Thanatos!" the leader pushed him forward, "You know what you must do."

Thanatos came forward reluctantly and whispered, "Arraleea."

"Thanatos!" a cheerful voice answered him and Arraleea appeared before the covert group, "You have come for me!"

Thanatos removed his hood as she ran to him.  She asked innocently, "Who are these…men?"

"We are not men, my love," Thanatos gazed at her keenly and his mouth hung open, "We are vampires."

"What?" Arraleea tried to draw back but his icy grip was adamant.  She was frozen by the sinister gleam in his eyes, "I do not understand.  Thanatos, please."

"Drain her!" a voice barked.

Before Thanatos sunk his fangs into her neck, he whispered sadly, "We are monsters."

"NOO!" Elrohir screamed as he rushed to the demolished gate.  Only a few dozen of his elven fighters remained engaged with the enemy.  The caped demons looked ghoulishly human and dodged the attacking elves quite agilely.  But as soon as they saw Elrohir approach, they took flight.  Some of the demons fled through the gate and others fled under a spell of invisibility.  The prince waved his broadsword and angrily shouted at them, "Cowards!  Come and fight me!"

"I will fight you," a hoary old man, wearing a long gray robe walked through the gates.  He carried a staff topped with a dark orb.  As he came forward, there was a roar of thunder and the orb glowed a deep purple.

"You!" Elrohir stared in disbelief, "You are dead!"

"So I am," he replied with a leering smile and toyed with his staff.

"Sauron is no more.  You can not serve him now."

"True, but now there is Sarumon the Elder!"  With that, Sarumon pointed his staff at Elrohir and sent a fireball flying toward him.  

Elrohir raised his sword and deflected the flame, but the blast pushed him to the ground.  Flames and smoke surrounded him as Sarumon continued his fiery rampage.  Elrohir reached for his sword but an explosion of dirt and tree bark knocked the sword into nearby flames.

Sarumon walked to where Elrohir lay and looked down at the Prince, "Where is Lord Elrond, my boy?  Perhaps this fight should be left for the adults."

Suddenly, an arrow plunged into Sarumon's chest.  As the wizard grappled with the arrow and reeled in pain, Elrohir pulled forth a dagger from his belt and dug into Sarumon's flesh.  To his dismay, Sarumon pushed him aside and easily plucked out the arrow and dagger.  

He laughed triumphantly, "You can not kill the dead."

Sarumon raised his staff to conjure up Elrohir's death, when something knocked him down and sent the undead Maiar sprawling to the ground.

"Come quickly, my prince," It was Legolas who was busily lodging arrows into Sarumon, "I will hold him off."

"We must not fight him.  He is too strong," Elrohir told him and they ran swiftly toward the woods for cover.  They found the tallest of the trees, scaled it, and watched for Sarumon's advance.

"How can we stop him?" Legolas paused to reload his bow, "Rivendell must not fall."

"Look!" Elrohir spied a faint glimmer on the horizon. "If Sarumon is one of those demons, he will run for cover to avoid the sun."

Indeed, Sarumon too noticed that dawn was near.  With a swipe of his robe, he vanished and fled from the rising sun.

"The sun rises quite on time," Legolas said in relief.

"No, it is too late," Elrohir said with a frown, "I know these monsters well and they hardly put up a fight tonight.  We must of fell for some sort of diversion.  They wanted something and I fear they have it."

A/N: Don't worry folks, somebody will save the good guys.  Of course, good will always defeat evil, but exactly who or what is the force of good and who is not?  Sure Saruman's evil—that's a given.  If Arraleea's a vampire and vampires are soulless, bloodthirsty monsters, what is Arraleea?  Is Thanatos evil for obeying orders?  Could he be acting out of love or out of cowardice?  Now that Arraleea is kindred, how will the elves react?  Can Elrond love a demon daughter?


End file.
